I always look forward teaching Saturday classes. Apart from not rushing to or from work to teach in the studio, there is always a good turn out of yogis that come to practice. Days before, my mind reels to a sequence I can guide them through. Days before, I prepare a playlist timing the sequence from warm-ups to peaks to cooling down. To say that I devote a whole lot of time and energy in preparation alone seems exaggerating; but that’s how it is. That is how my classes are. They are always different. I may repeat a certain segment from past classes, but they always end up as a smorgasbord.
I was excited this morning as I headed to the studio. It has been a dreary morning, waking up to -3C. In spring! Unfazed, I prepared the studio.
Only a handful came. Whether it was bed weather, or some Mother’s Day pre-event, it was a small size for a Saturday class. I feed off energy from other people, and having a small class can be struggling for me. I tried to hide my disappointment, telling myself… “This isn’t about me alone. This is sharing and reaching out to others. This is all perfectly all right”.
My theme was friendship. Friendship, not with other people; but the relationship with oneself. It can be so easy to make friends with others; but we find it difficult to make friends with ourselves. There is a strain to accept our own limitations but not with others. There is conflict within our own thoughts but not with what others are thinking. There is the tussle with our own body parts only because others look great in a pose, and you’d kill yourself to look like that. But by coming in to the practice today, the friendship is renewed. Allowing it to blossom into something more. Allowing ourselves to be open to the possibility that expectations may not be met from this friendship, and that this is okay. What matters is to trust the process of what this friendship can grow into when we cease building that wall to take us to the edge, or in some cases, jumping off the edge when we push ourselves too much and too soon. There is always a risk to any friendship; but we can not know what is meant to happen when we seclude ourselves into our shell, or when we’re too eager to see beyond… only because the edge looks scary, only because the edge is unknown.
So I made them sweat. I guided them to their individual edge, scary or not. I flowed with their energy and doubled mine to keep the class fun and lively. They may have looked near passing out with all the sundry-crazy Chaturangas and motley-wild Navasanas… but each of us moved on to the next flow, and to the next flow, and to the next flow… reaching the peak, the culmination. Adho Mukha Vrksasana.
The class held different levels and their handstands came out distinct to their own edge. I smiled. My heart smiled. And I was content. We ended with Viparita Karani. Again, in a potpourri of leg positions to whatever felt good for them.
On my way home, I received a text from one of the yogis.
Not only did I feel enthused with their handstands, I am now reaping the dessert, enjoying my box full of chocolates.